


water's rising and I'm slipping under

by selinakyle47



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blackmail, Dom/sub, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:39:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selinakyle47/pseuds/selinakyle47
Summary: “I- I don’t understand…” Rey stammered in confusion.Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Solo regarded her with those dark, unfathomable eyes of his.  “I thought I made myself quite clear.  In return for not turning over the video to the dean, you’ll make yourself available to me in any way I wish, for as long as I want your…companionship,” he finished delicately, his generous mouth twisting in a smirk.  “Or you can face the consequences of your attempt to cheat the system.  The choice is yours.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rey is a teenager with limited options. Ben Solo is not a nice man. Please keep that in mind as you read.
> 
> Tags will be added as needed.

Phones had been going off all morning, each cheery notification like an axe hacking away at the teachers’ patience.  When they’d finally tired of the disruptions they started handing out detentions like they were candy to anyone whose eyes so much as strayed from the front of the class.  Rey didn’t care to waste away her afternoon cooped up in an overheated classroom, staring blankly at glossy motivational posters featuring the official portraits of the U.S. presidents while the other students chattered around her, blatantly ignoring the useless threats of the unlucky substitute assigned to supervise them. 

No, she had much better things to do with her time.  Like curling up on her bed, mug of tea in hand as she lost herself once more in the used copy of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ that she’d bought for herself on her thirteenth birthday.  So when her phone began to vibrate in the middle of AP American History, she folded the pleat of her uniform skirt over the pocket, trying to drown out the sound under polyester wool.

Her teacher didn’t seem to notice, much to her relief, merely glancing sharply toward the back of the classroom before turning back to the whiteboard.  Setting pen to paper, Rey resumed taking notes on the consequences of the Louisiana Purchase, and with a quiz to look forward to in her next class, the message alert that had interrupted her was quickly forgotten.

 

****

 

An early morning drizzle had driven the students indoors and left small puddles of water on the concrete benches in the brick-lined courtyard of the upper campus.  Still, Rey managed to find a somewhat dry spot underneath a high archway.  Yes, it was chilly and damp.  Yes, she was sitting by herself when everyone else was enjoying the comfort and warmth of the school cafeteria.  But the quiet solitude of her lunch hour was much more preferable to the hollow sensation that settled in her gut whenever the eyes of the other students, blank and incurious, passed over her when she walked down the aisles, searching for a seat.  More preferable than scarfing down her lunch as quickly as possible so that she could escape to the library and spend the rest of the period in the alcove tucked away in the back that she’d come to think of as her own. 

Rey could hardly blame them.  Her fellow classmates weren’t being unkind by not readily ushering her into their tight-knit circles.  They just didn’t have time for someone who existed outside the privileged bubble of their lives.  Who wasn’t from the upper-class neighborhood that surrounded the school, with its tree-lined streets and stately homes rising above well-manicured lawns.  Whose ancient, beaten-up Chevy pickup was so out of place among the gleaming BMWs and Benzes lined up neatly in the student parking lot that she chose to park in the farthest row in the staff lot along with the custodians. 

In any case, she was going to be gone in a few months, Rey reminded herself as she unwrapped her ham-and-cheese sandwich.  Chewing slowly, she considered the odds that she’d ever run into any of her fellow classmates after high school had ended.  Quite unlikely, since most of them were bound for the Ivies or any of the elite liberal arts colleges that populated the northeast.  And even if she ran into one of them at NYU, they probably wouldn’t even remember the quiet girl who sat in the back of the classroom, trying to blend into the wall. 

No, she didn’t need anything to tie her to a school she’d only attended for a year.  NYU was the fresh start that she’d been looking for her whole life.  A new environment, in the heart of a city that pulsed with energy and promised adventure.  She could reinvent herself.  Meet new people who wouldn’t know about her past and no one to judge her for it.  Rey smiled to herself as she thought of the box at the foot of her bed, the one that stored all the glossy pamphlets she’d received from the admissions office.  And of the thick course catalog that had been pored over so many times that the corners of the pages were beginning to get a little dog-eared.

It wasn’t until she’d popped the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth that she remembered the notification she’d received earlier.  Water bottle balanced on her knee, Rey fished her phone, several generations too old but still serviceable, out from her pocket, more curious about who had sent her the video than any interest in watching the captain of the boys’ hockey team piss away his guaranteed spot in Harvard’s freshman class by engaging in an unauthorized installation of public art.

One new message, from a local phone number, though one that didn’t match any of her stored contacts, few as they were.  That was curious.  She had expected to receive the video from someone in one of her study groups from last semester but that didn’t seem to be the case.  With a mental shrug, Rey tapped on the attached video and began to lift her water bottle to her lips. 

In the next second her world narrowed down to the screen in front of her.  The water bottle never made it to her mouth, slipping from suddenly limp fingers to crash to the ground, water pouring out to further soak the grass around her feet.

Her heartbeat seemed to stutter, losing its steady rhythm, before resolving into a staccato thump that thundered in her ears.  Her stomach roiled violently, threatening to send her recently consumed lunch back up her throat.

One thought made itself clear as a bell inside her head, echoing over and over until she thought she might go mad from it.

She shouldn’t have taken the money.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rey Jakku wasn't a liar or a cheat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely reviews and kudos! I'm pleased to see that people are enjoying the fic.

_Two weeks earlier._

Rey hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.

She was simply minding her own business, quietly reviewing the notes she’d taken on the assigned reading in Honors English – the teacher had a sadistic fondness for motivating students with pop quizzes.  And the hidden corner to the side of the main staircase in Conley Hall was the perfect place to steal away to in between classes.  Besides, the boys sprawled across the steps above her were so loud that it was nearly impossible to ignore their conversation.

“I am so fucking screwed,” someone groaned, followed by a dull thump – a head meeting the wall maybe?

“So what are you gonna do?”  A different boy this time.  Rey thought that the concern that threaded through his deep voice sounded sincere.

“The fuck do I know,” the first boy snapped, frustration finally boiling over.  “She’s completely unreasonable.  I told her that I’d willing to do some extra credit work and she totally shut me down.  Said that she didn’t believe in them.  Who the fuck says that?”

Murmurs of disbelief rose from his friends.  “Maybe you can get someone to…I don’t know…like, hack into her user account or something,” someone else offered.

A huff of exasperation greeted that suggestion.  “Yeah, sure. And get suspended?  No thanks.”  Another thump, probably a fist or a shoe this time.  “This shit sucks.  I’m fucking five points away from a passing grade.  I can’t miss this game.  Scouts are gonna be there, for fuck’s sake.”

Rey waited until she heard the shuffle of backpacks being lifted onto shoulders and voices fading away before sneaking forward and peeking around the staircase.  Turning the corner was a group of boys, all wearing their team jackets for Spirit Week.  She recognized the one who complained, a tall boy with dirty blond hair cut short, as someone who played for the basketball team.

She trailed the group, bobbing around the other students in the hallway and keeping a safe distance behind them until he stopped in front of his locker and waved his friends ahead.  “Gotta get my textbook.  I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

This was it.  After nights of agonizing over her situation and losing sleep because of it, she’d finally stumbled across the answer she’d been looking for.  Screwing up her courage, Rey sidled up to him, trying to act in a casual manner, as if they were friends.  “Jake?”

He turned around at his name and then frowned down at her.  There was no flicker of recognition in his green eyes.  “Yeah?”

She fought to keep her hands at her sides instead of twisting them nervously in front of her.  “I…uh…  We’re in the same gym class… And…”

Something clicked in his expression and the corners of his mouth broadened into a smile.  It reminded her of the looks she and the other foster kids would get when they were dragged to the holiday parties hosted by the church her former foster parents belonged to: pity mingling with a faint smugness that they had avoided their situation.

“Look, I’m really flattered and all, but I already have a date for the dance.”

Rey blinked up at him in confusion.  Dance?  What was he talking about—

Oh.

“No, that’s not it,” she hastened to correct him, head shaking vigorously from side to side.  Deciding that getting to the point was probably the best way to move past the awkwardness, she spelled out her reason for accosting him, her words strung together in one breathless rush.  “I heard about your problem.  I can help you.”

That got his attention.  His shoulders stiffened as he eyed her with a kind of wariness.  “Oh yeah?  And how do you know about that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, losing some of her earlier nervousness now that Jake seemed willing to listen to her.  “You need something.  I can make it happen.”

His gaze broke from her, sweeping across the hallway, as if to assess the possibility of being overheard, before returning.  “Just so we’re clear.  You,” Jake pointed at her, “are offering to hack into Mrs. Castillo’s gradebook and change my grade?” 

Rey nodded.  “Yeah.  I am.”  She hadn’t really given much thought to _how_ she was going to accomplish that – and she only had the vaguest idea of how one went about hacking into a social media account.  Still, he didn’t need to know that.  All that mattered at this moment was convincing him that she had the skills to deliver on a promise.

He stared as her for a beat longer and then sighed.  “Okay, fine.”  Though he seemed willing to consider her offer, suspicion still lurked in his eyes.  “And what do you want in exchange?  I’m assuming you’re not doing this just to be nice.”

A new truck?  One that wouldn’t break down and leave her stranded on the side of the road in freezing cold temperatures?  Having it towed and then begging Plutt for the use of tools and garage space to install a used radiator and radiator hoses nearly wiped out her savings, which had been meager to begin with.  Her account only had thirty dollars left in it and her monthly benefits check wouldn’t be deposited until the end of the month.  Asking Ms. Kanata for a loan was completely out of the question.  The social worker had already done so much for her.  She didn’t have to arrange for Rey to move into temporary housing that allowed her to leave the group home.  Nor did she have to recommend her for admission to the exclusive academy that she now attended.  She wasn’t going to repay that generosity by demonstrating that she couldn’t take care of herself.  That she didn’t deserve that precious gift of independence. 

Thinking quickly, Rey tossed out an amount that seemed reasonable to her.  “Four hundred.”

“Three hundred,” Jake countered, and from the firm set to his mouth she guessed that she wasn’t going to have much luck persuading him to go any higher.

“Fine,” she agreed, and quashed the small part of her that wanted to continue bargaining.  “But I want one fifty upfront.”  She wasn’t committing an academic infraction out of the goodness of her heart after all. 

Jake seemed to mull that over, then came to a decision.  “Done.  Change the grade on my last Spanish quiz from a 20 to a 30 and you can have the rest.”  He slammed his locker door closed and made to leave.  “I’ll give you the money first thing tomorrow morning.  Seven thirty.  I usually park near the tennis courts.  Blue Jeep Rubicon.  Can’t miss it.”  He didn’t wait for her answer before rushing down the hallway and turning to the left, disappearing from her sight.

Rey slumped against a locker, all the courage she’d gathered up to sustain her during the conversation draining out of her in one shaky exhalation.  Her gut twisted into knots as the weight of what she had agreed to finally settled over her.  It surprised her that she would feel uneasy about such a small thing as changing a grade on a quiz.  True, she would be violating the school’s Honor Code, but she wasn’t benefitting from it – directly anyway.  It wasn’t as if she were tampering with Jake’s final grade in Spanish and allowing him to pass a class he had no right to.

It was simply a small, minor grade change, one that allowed him to play in the next game.  That’s all.  Hardly a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

Still, that nagging feeling stuck with her, like a lingering toothache, even after her measly dinner of instant ramen and two-week old baby carrots.  Even after putting ten dollars’ worth of gas in her truck that morning and hoping that it would enough to last her until the weekend.  When Jake held out the cash to her, all in new, crisp bills, Rey could only stare at it, her body unresponsive to her brain’s instructions to take it.

“You still doing this?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed.  His eyes kept darting from her face to some point behind her shoulder, probably looking out for his friends.

Stuffing down the guilt that churned inside her, Rey reached out and plucked the wad of cash out of his hands.  “Of course,” she replied, hoping that her breezy tone didn’t betray her uncertainty.

“By Thursday afternoon,” he reminded her.  “Or else I’m coming after you.”

“I’ll get it done,” she assured him.  He nodded at her and then jogged away to join the other students shuffling out of the parking lot and making their way to the quad.  She wasn’t at all worried about his baseless threat; she would find a way to fulfill her end of the deal. 

Rey Jakku wasn’t a liar or a cheat.

She sighed.  Would she still be able to claim the latter after Thursday?  Not that it mattered; there was no turning back now, seeing as she was shoving the money into her coat pocket.

She only had to make sure that she didn’t get caught.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So who wanted to screw her over?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had meant to update sooner but life kinda got in the way. Thanks again for your comments and kudos. They really brighten my day. :)

By itself the video wasn’t enough to damn Rey. 

It didn’t capture the moment she approached Mrs. Castillo as she sat behind the front desk in the guidance suite, her expression carefully arranged into one that reflected worry and concern.  It didn’t record the story she’d told the teacher to lure her out of the room: that students had been spotted lighting up in the girl’s bathroom on the second floor during fifth period.  Nor did it reveal how Mrs. Castillo, ever a stickler for the rules, had jumped up immediately, only pausing to ask Rey if she could wait around and keep an eye on things for her before hurrying out the door. 

It only showed her lingering behind the unoccupied front desk of the guidance suite, anxiously looking back and forth between the office door and the computer monitor while she fumbled with the mouse and keyboard. 

Being in Plutt’s horribly inadequate care was not an experience Rey would look back upon fondly.  It wasn’t, however, completely useless.  Witnessing all the seedy transactions that went down in the back room of the auto repair shop her former foster parent owned had been somewhat educational.  Enough that she could recognize the video for what it was: a clumsy attempt to shake her down. 

What she couldn’t quite figure out was the reason behind it.  She wasn’t anyone special.  Not like her classmates, whose parents were lawyers, investment bankers, and CEOs.  She had no money or important connections to take advantage of.  She had pathetically few personal possessions – being shunted from home to home saw to that – and what she did own couldn’t possibly interest anyone.

Her hands shook so badly that her first attempt at a response contained more emojis than what was necessary.  Her next attempts weren’t any more coherent, erased as quickly as she finished typing them out. 

What _was_ the proper response to someone who was vaguely threatening to ruin your life? 

Frustrated, Rey huffed out a noisy breath and hit send on the last one.  For a brief moment she contemplated hurling her phone against the nearest wall, but the urge faded away just as quickly.  Her poor phone wasn’t to blame.  Destroying it wasn’t going to make her problems disappear, much as she’d like that.  Instead she stuffed it back into her pocket, wondering how it was possible to feel heartsick and angry at the same time.

This had to be the work of another student.  A teacher or staff member wouldn’t have secretly recorded her messing around with the computer.  She would’ve been confronted immediately and escorted to the office of the dean of students.  Instead of staring down at a video, she would be sweating in front of the Honor Board, trying to explain her actions and avoid expulsion.

So who wanted to screw her over? 

It couldn’t be Jake; he had as much to lose as her if the video got out. 

A friend who was jealous and wanted to use her against him?  Possibly, though she highly doubted that he’d told anyone about their deal.  It was too risky a thing to gossip about. 

Someone who hated her?  Who was threatened by her?  But that was laughable; she barely talked to anyone, not even with the other students in her classes.  On most days she hopped into her truck and left the campus as soon as the bell signaling the end of the last period had rung.  There hadn’t been enough time to make friends _or_ enemies.

More importantly, how did this person manage to hide their presence in the guidance suite?  Rey could’ve sworn that there had been no one else there, just Mrs. Castillo filling in for the admin who usually took her lunch at that time.  From the angle of the video, her unknown observer had to have been off to the side and in the corner of the suite.  She closed her eyes as she tried to recreate the suite’s layout in her mind, drawing from what she could remember of her brief visit. 

Beige metal filing cabinets along the far wall.  Dark blue plastic chairs.  Arranged around a square conference table.

Which was partially hidden by a tall, wide gray panel.

A tiny groan slipped out.  In her nervousness she didn’t think to confirm that she was indeed alone.  Instead of physically checking through the room, she had listened for the tell-tale sounds of people working at their desks: the creak of office chairs, hushed conversations over the phone, light tapping from keyboards. Finding none, she had assumed that the suite was empty and moved ahead with her plan. 

It was stupidly amateur move.  No wonder she got caught.

Rey would’ve continued mentally lashing at her herself for her carelessness if not for the vibration from inside her coat, alerting her to the arrival of a reply.  She froze, her hand remaining curled into a fist on her lap.  A part of her was not particularly eager to view the text.  Another, one more practical, reminded her that ignoring the message probably wouldn’t do her any good and might even make things worse for her.  Resignation rounded her shoulders as she pulled out her phone, gingerly handling it as if it were a bomb that could explode at any second.  She shut her eyes briefly – was it too late to send up a prayer – before lowering her gaze down to the screen. 

The message was brief and to the point.

_Let’s talk.  Fowler B35.  3pm._

There was no demand for money, no _do this for me or else_.  Just a simple, non-threatening request for a meeting.  And yet…

Rey didn’t feel reassured at all; there had to be more.  She stared at her phone, barely daring to breathe, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  And when it did, the person on the other end left no ambiguity as to their intentions.

_If you’re late the video will be the first thing the dean will see in her inbox tomorrow._

 

XoX

 

When Rey was ten years old, she and other foster kids were taken on a day trip to the beach, a treat organized by the social workers for their clients who had yet to find permanent placements.  The air conditioning for the passenger van they all squeezed into was barely functional, making for a long and uncomfortable ride but the sight that greeted her at the end made up for it: the slender stretch of sand, the shimmering, endless blue of the ocean.  While the rest of the kids shrieked and played tag in the surf, Rey busied herself with molding the wet sand into structures.  At one point she’d decided to sculpt a lighthouse, using the one jutting out from a rocky base in the distance as a model.  But the waves that day had been particularly strong, racing up the beach and crashing into her with enough force to knock her over and flatten her first attempt.  Rey learned quickly that no matter where she built her lighthouse or how high she made it, the next big wave inevitably washed it away, leaving her with nothing but a shapeless lump.

Her useless attempts that hot day years ago didn’t seem any different from what she was doing now.  With the threat weighing heavily on her mind, trying to keep her mind focused and on-task in any of her remaining classes had proved to be impossible.  The in-class essay she turned in for English?  Garbage.  Her notes for AP Physics?  Might as well have been written in Aurebesh. 

Skipping out on the rest of the afternoon had been tempting, even though as a scholarship student she’d taken care to keep up her attendance at her new school.  Going home and drowning her problems in several steaming mugs of tea while watching reruns of CSI: NY?  Yeah, that sounded much better than struggling through each class with her thoughts flitting inside her head like birds trapped in a cage.

Unfortunately, that option wasn’t available to her, thanks to the person blackmailing her.  And to add to her already rising anxiety, every student she had the briefest interaction with was now a suspect.  Even the simplest contact, like passing back worksheets or a stray elbow bump in the hallway, was layered with a deeper, more sinister meaning.  By the time the last bell sounded her nerves had been stretched paper-thin; it was a wonder that she didn’t run screaming from the campus.

There was one idea that she clung to all afternoon.  That kept her going with the hope that she might still find a way out of this mess.

Whoever recorded her – and it was apparent that this was taken on a phone and not obtained from a security camera feed – wasn’t in the right position to see exactly what she was doing behind the desk.

Which meant that her mystery observer had no idea that she had accessed Mrs. Castillo’s oh so conveniently unlocked Canvas account and changed out Jake’s grade.

If they could be persuaded that the video didn’t have much blackmail value, that she was just checking her email or sneaking a peek at the class rankings then maybe…

It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

 

XoX

 

She found herself outside Fowler Hall with ten minutes to spare, having collected her things from her locker in a hurry and hustled across the quad.  At first her feet seemed rooted to the ground, too heavy to walk up the crumbling steps and inside the building.  A burst of laughter from the construction workers milling behind her startled her out of her stupor and with a deep breath, Rey forced herself to move, past the heavy, wood-paneled doors and down the short staircase leading to the basement.

Fowler Hall had served as the academy’s science building since its founding.  With the new science center next to it nearing completion, most of the rooms had been emptied out, save for some faculty offices and classrooms on the upper floors.  The basement level was completely deserted, her shoes tapping out a lonely echo on the concrete floor as she searched for the right room, which happened to be at the end of the narrow hallway.

The door had a small glass window set into it, though she couldn’t see into the room due to what appeared to be paper plastered against it from the inside.  Her heart hammering wildly inside her chest, Rey knocked timidly on the door. 

No answer.  She eyed the ornate doorknob with suspicion before reaching out to turn it, surprised to find it unlocked.  The aged hinges on the door protested faintly as she pushed it open and took a few steps into the classroom.

A large, army green metal teacher’s desk was positioned in front of a chalkboard that ran nearly the length of the room.  Brown metal desk chairs were stacked on top of each other and pushed to the periphery, creating an open space in the middle now occupied by a single desk.  A faded, pull-down poster of the periodic table hung on the far wall, a reminder of the subject that had once been taught in the classroom.

Curious, Rey walked over to the chalk rail and swiped a finger along it.  The trail she left on the layer of dust suggested that the room hadn’t been used in a fairly long time, probably several years before she came to the academy.  Why had her mystery observer chosen a deserted classroom in a rarely-used building for their meeting?  Why here instead of the dumpster behind the cafeteria wing or the ticket stand by the entrance to the football field, the locations the student body seemed to prefer for their illicit transactions?

She wasn’t left to ponder long. 

A male voice behind her, low and deep, shattered the silence of the room.  “You’re on time.  That’s a good sign.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mr. Solo glanced down at his phone and back up at her. “That wasn’t a particularly smart move, Rey." ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters in and then they meet.
> 
> I intend to catch up on all your comments. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter.

Her hand flew up, clamping tight over her mouth and keeping the scream trapped in her throat.  Rey twisted around so fast that she nearly lost her balance, needing to take a step back to keep from toppling into the chalkboard.

A good move too, as she certainly would’ve fallen over in shock as soon as her gaze had landed on the tall, broad form filling the door frame.

For all that she avoided casual conversation with any of her classmates like it was the plague, Rey still remained in the loop when it came to school gossip.  A benefit, she supposed, of going unnoticed in the cafeteria.  In the girls' locker room.  In the courtyard.  Anywhere, really.

Which explained how she recognized the teacher standing before her.  Like her, Ben Solo had started in the fall, a sudden replacement for the Economics teacher who had gone on maternity leave a few months earlier than expected.  What she did know about him was little, gleaned from overhearing other students complaining about their bad luck at being assigned to one of his classes.  His teaching style was dry and uninspiring.  His tests were unreasonably difficult.  Unlike the popular and well-regarded Ms. Taylor, whose classes he’d taken over for, Mr. Solo quickly acquired a reputation for being cold and dismissive.

He observed her for a few seconds, his eyes dark and intense as they swept slowly over her from her head down to her scuffed-up black Chucks.  She resisted the urge to pull her coat tighter around her.  “I wasn’t sure if you would come.  But I’m pleased that you’re here.  We’ve a lot to talk about,” he said, shutting the door firmly behind him, the sharp click of the lock turning sounding ominous.

“How do you know who I am?” Rey asked, finally finding her voice, shaky though it was.

Her question was ignored as he crossed the room, heading for the teacher’s desk.  She knew that he was a tall man; that much was clear just by looking at him.  But she didn’t realize how much he towered over her, how the breadth of his shoulders filled out his tweed sport coat, until he got within a few feet of her.  The laptop bag that he had been carrying was dropped on the surface, sending dust motes into the air.  Mr. Solo pulled out the chair that had been tucked under the desk, brushing off the battered, leather cover before settling himself into it and spinning around to face her.  “It’s not difficult for faculty to find information on any student.”

Rey felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.  It _was_ a dumb question, but in her defense her mind was still trying to process the fact that a teacher was the one who’d sent her the text that morning.

“So then…  A- Are you the one who—”

“That’s right.”  He reached inside his sport coat, took out his phone, and then held it up for her.  Even from where she stood she could clearly see that godforsaken video on the screen.  Rey wanted to scream.  In frustration at herself for being such an idiot.  In anger at him for seeking to take advantage of her lapse into momentary idiocy.

Mr. Solo glanced down at his phone and back up at her.  “That wasn’t a particularly smart move, Rey,” he said, shaking his head and sounding mildly disappointed, as if he were merely commenting on her performance on a test.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, attempting to look contrite as her hastily-constructed lie tripped off her tongue.  “I know I shouldn’t have used that computer.  I only wanted to check the student rankings.  You know, for the valedictorian betting pool that’s going around?  The pot’s up to six hundred now.”

By the silence that greeted her made-up confession Rey knew that her gamble hadn’t quite paid off.  He simply stared at her, his mouth set in an unwavering line.  Eventually his lack of reaction got to her.  Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she added in a small voice, “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Mr. Solo nodded slowly, as if he was mulling over her confession.  “I see.  And is that the story you want to tell the dean?”

It felt as if her insides were trying to twist themselves into knots.  He didn’t buy her explanation, not a word of it.  She frowned, carefully arranging a look of confusion on her face, and said, “I don’t know what you—”

He held up a hand, interrupting her.  “Cut the bullshit, Rey.  We both know what really happened inside the guidance suite.”  When she didn’t answer, still clinging to the fading hope that he was only bluffing, that he wasn’t completely aware of all that she’d done on the computer, he went ahead and smashed that hope into pieces.  “You gained unauthorized access to a faculty account and changed a student grade.  Not yours,” he conceded.  “Still, it’s all the same to the Honor Board.”

“I know I shouldn’t have done it,” Rey blurted out, dropping the attempt to fool him.  “It wasn’t my best moment, I admit that.  But I can make it right.  I can change it back—”

“And correct a mistake with another one?” he countered, looking slightly amused.  “Again, not very smart.  I thought you were better than that.”

That was it.  There was no convincing him.  Her knees began to tremble, and she reeled back, her hand reaching behind her for support before remembering that there was none.  “You... You want something from me,” she stated flatly.  “For not turning the video over to the dean.”

He tilted his head to the side, making an exaggeration of studying her thoroughly.  “That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said so far.”

Rey brushed off his sarcastic remark.  “You want to be paid off, is that it?  Fine.  Just name your price and I can get you the money.”  It wasn’t a complete lie.  While she didn’t have a whole lot saved up in her bank account, she could find ways to get more.  She could sell everything she had, including the truck that had meant freedom for her.  She’d even swallow her pride and ask Plutt for her old job back, if that was what it took to get rid of him.

He scoffed at her offer.  “I have no use for your money.”

Stunned and at a complete loss for why he turned down her offer, she demanded, “Then what do you want from me?”

His gaze raked over her again and this time the disturbing sensation of being studied like some kind of specimen under a magnifying glass was even more acute.  Rey struggled to keep her arms at her side and not fold them over her chest as she was tempted to do. 

“Take your coat off.”

“What?”

“Your coat.  Take it off.”  Mr. Solo made a small gesture with his hand, as if she didn’t have the mental capacity to understand a simple command.  Rey bit back a snarky response and unzipped her coat, sliding it off her shoulders and draping it over her arm.  Why he wanted it off, she had no idea.  It wasn’t as if she were dressed any differently from the rest of the students.  The hem of her green and white plaid skirt brushed the tops of her knees, more modest than the skirt lengths preferred by some of her classmates.  And there was nothing terribly exciting about the dark green long-sleeved polo shirt she wore on top. 

“What do I want?”  he repeated her question, his words carrying across the room despite being spoken softly.  A growing uncertainty filled her, freezing her in place like a rabbit trapped by a fox.  She could barely incline her head in response.

Something she couldn’t quite decipher flickered across his face before he gave her his answer.  “Just you.”

He wanted her?  That made absolutely no sense.  He hardly knew her.  And she hadn’t even spared him a single thought before today.  She was about to ask him what he meant when he continued, mostly likely spurred on by her dumbfounded expression.  “You’re a lovely young woman, Rey.  The teachers here all think very highly of you.  Good student, great work ethic.  But that’s all they know about you.”  His lips twitched, as if he were barely holding back a smile.  “I’m not like them.  I’d like to get to know you better, Rey.  Become more” –he lingered on the next word– “ _intimately_ familiar with you.”

Rey couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.  That was a joke, right?  Disgusting and highly inappropriate, but still just a joke.  “I- I don’t understand…” she stammered in confusion, her fingers finding the hem of her skirt and nervously twisting it.

Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Solo regarded her with those dark, unfathomable eyes of his.  “I thought I made myself quite clear.  In return for not turning over the video to the dean, you’ll make yourself available to me in any way I wish, for as long as I want your…companionship,” he finished delicately, his generous mouth twisting in a smirk.  “Or you can face the consequences of your attempt to cheat the system.  The choice is yours.”

Bile burned the back of her throat.  Fighting through the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her, Rey shut her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath to steady herself.  She was so, so fucked.  Figuratively, and – if Solo got what he wanted – literally. 

Her eyes flew open.  She drew on the anger that was beginning to lick at her insides.  “You want a fucktoy, is that it?” she spat at him, her tone sharp and vicious, words the only weapon left to her.  “Someone to be your little blow-up doll because women keep swiping left on you?”

He lifted a shoulder in lazy shrug.  “Maybe.  Maybe I just want free housecleaning.  Doesn’t really matter now, does it?  I could bend you over my kitchen counter and fuck you senseless.  Or I can make you clean it with a toothbrush until the granite was sparkling.  You’ll do whatever I want, when I want it.  It is that simple.”

With sudden clarity Rey understood that his aloof, laughably cerebral demeanor in class was merely a mask for the vile predator he truly was underneath.  And that there was no escaping this trap he’d set for her.  Should she let her dreams of NYU and a future far removed from her foster system childhood fade away like so much smoke from a guttering candle?  Or should she give in to his sick demands, hoping that he’d get bored of her and move on to another unsuspecting student after a few weeks?

It really wasn’t much of a choice.  With great reluctance she buried her outrage deep and willed herself to stand still under that hard, unrelenting gaze.  “Fine,” she said, internally cringing at resignation clear in her voice.  “What do you want me to do?”

Her question hung heavily in the air, the weight of it almost crushing her fragile resolve before he deigned to respond.  Leaning forward, he said in a deceptively pleasant tone, “Why don’t you bend over that desk in the middle of the room.  Oh, and lift your skirt over your hips,” he added with a cruel grin.  “I want to see the color of your panties.”


End file.
